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Chapter Text

“You’re wearing that?”  

Rodney’s eyes drifted down to look at the blue shirt he was wearing and he manfully tried to resist the urge to whirl around and look in the mirror again.  He had it on good authority (Teyla) that this shirt really brought out the blue in his eyes and it wasn’t that tight across the chest.   Was it?  

He lost his battle to keep from checking himself over.  Finding nothing wrong - well, nothing that could be fixed without a time machine or a handy de-aging ray - he turned to glare at John.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” he asked.  “Not all of us are allergic to colour you know.”  

John was dressed in black as usual as he leaned casually against the door to Rodney’s quarters, swapping his all black military uniform for a black shirt, black jeans and a - well ok, admittedly dark grey - jacket.  The fact that he looked damn good was just another thing in a long line of things that was annoying Rodney today.

“No, no,” John smirked, “you look fine.  Very heroic.”

Rodney rolled his eyes.  Now he knew what the teasing was about. Every damn time they had to visit Larris, John got all sarcastic and defensive about a certain painting that hung in the throne room.  A certain painting that had somehow ended up as the background for John’s computer screen for many, many months after the first time a team from Atlantis went to solidify their alignment with the planet.  Rodney doesn’t know who did it but the programming skills involved in making it near impossible to reset had been impressive.

Come to think of it, Rodney was pretty sure this was the first time that John would actually set foot on Larris since the painting was unveiled almost three years ago, always having found something of military importance that needed his attention when AR-1 was scheduled to visit. He didn’t know what he was missing, Rodney thought as he levelled John with his very best look of disdain, he loved going to Larris.  He was treated like a King there and they had these amazing little pies that tasted as close to duck as he had found in the Pegasus Galaxy.

“Jealousy is unbecoming, Colonel,” Rodney sniped as he passed John on his way out the door.

“You get her a gift?”  John fell into line next to him as they made their way to the nearest transporter.  “Sweet sixteen, I hear it’s a big deal.”

“I think Woolsey has got some sort of token thing,” Rodney said.  As they arrived at the transporter he pushed the part of the screen that would take them to the ‘gate room, barely blinking as they moved instantaneously from one part of Atlantis to the other.

“But you didn’t get her anything.  The great and honourable Dr. Rodney McKay?”

Rodney snorted.  “I gave them indoor plumbing, I’m pretty sure that still leaves them heavily in my debt when it comes to gift giving.”

John grinned as he conceded the point.

“Rodney, you look lovely.” Teyla greeted him with a smile, brushing her hand over his shirt approvingly.  “You look lovely also, John,” she said as John pointedly cleared his throat.

“That a new shirt, McKay?  It’s good.  Brings out your eyes.” Ronon clapped him on the shoulder and grinned wickedly - although his grin seemed to be directed more at John than him.  

“I see Banks is still managing to domesticate you,” Rodney said.  “Is she not coming?”

Ronon pointed towards the control room to where Amelia sat in her usual spot.  “Teyla’s my date tonight,” he grinned as he linked arms with her.  “Who’s yours?” he asked as he made a big production of looking back and forth between John and Rodney.

Rodney was saved having to answer as Woolsey clapped his hands like he was wrangling a classroom of school children.  

“Attention, please,” he called out as the whispers and chattering amongst the gathered chosen representatives of Atlantis quietened down.  “I don’t need to tell you all again what an honour it is to be invited to Queen Harmony’s coming of age ceremony.  Thanks to the solid relationship that we have fostered with the people of Larris - and the good work of Dr. McKay, of course - we are being welcomed as special guests tonight.  I trust you’ll all be on your best behaviour.”  

John huffed in amusement as Rodney preened just a little.  

“Amelia, dial us up.”  Woolsey gave the order with a flourish of the wrist.

The gate splashed into action and John’s body brushed against Rodney’s as they moved to step through.  “That damn painting had better not still be there,”  John muttered.

Rodney knew from his semi-frequent visits to Larris that it still hung grandly in the throne room, looming over the courtiers and crowds.  He knocked his shoulder against John’s in commiseration.  “Don’t worry,” he said just before they stepped through the ‘gate, “it’s not all bad.  There’s these little pies that are just - - “

The painting was as horrific as John remembered.  And, unfortunately, just as appealing.  He’d never tell but for those three months that he had been forced to look at it every time he used his computer, he’d developed a sort of fondness for it.  Or, more accurately, for Rodney in it.  The fierce, protective pose may have been a source of amusement for most of the soldiers - the ones who had never been on a mission with McKay - but John saw in it a side of Rodney that he knew was already there.  A damn attractive side of Rodney.

Rodney barely gave it a glance, instead honing in on a plate of mini pies that were being carried high by a server in a plunging neckline.  Shaking himself, John followed.  He had been promised delicious pies and if the past seven years had taught him anything, it was the need to be quick at filling his own plate when Rodney had a taste for something.

The people of Larris were as fancy and medieval looking as John remembered.  Rodney and the rest of the Lanteans looked incredibly out of place in their modern clothes but John was surprised to see how well Rodney seemed to fit in here; receiving friendly nods and exclaimed greetings as he tried to fill his plate.  

There was no sign of Harmony or her sister yet but, if she was as bratty as John remembered, she was no doubt waiting to make a big entrance later on.  He resolved to enjoy himself as much as possible before that happened.  Even if he did have to ignore the sniggering looks that many of the courtiers threw his way.

“Here,”  Rodney pushed a mini pie at him, “eat this and tell me that's not the best thing you've ever had in your mouth.”

John chuckled at Rodney's choice of words, enjoying the way it made Rodney roll his eyes like he was dealing with a twelve year old and leaned forward to take the pie into his mouth, his tongue and lips brushing against Rodney's outstretched fingers.  Watching the exasperated look on Rodney's face morph into one of shock was gratifying.

The flicker of desire that John saw in Rodney's eyes was very interesting.  Before John could do anything about it - nibble at his fingers, or kiss him, or back slowly away and pretend to be straight - a regal gong rang out through the room and a herald announced the arrival of Princess Flora and Queen Harmony.

John sighed as he straightened up, swallowing the delicious pie.   Oh well, he thought, it was fun for at least two minutes.

Rodney reluctantly set down his plate of pies as the royal cymbal sounded and subtly adjusted the crotch of his trousers as he turned towards the throne.  

What the hell had John been thinking, eating the pie from his hand like that?  Was he trying to kill him?  More likely that he was just trying to embarrass him - still trying to get him back for that ridiculous oil painting no doubt.  Which Rodney would like to stress was absolutely, 100% not his fault.  (And he’d only teased John about it for two days before backing off which should really qualify him for a sainthood in his books.)

John’s elbow - pointy and sharp - dug into his side, jolting him from his thoughts.  

“Pay attention,” John hissed through his lips.  “Your Queen is speaking.”

Rodney rolled his eyes and bit down on the retort that Harmony wasn’t his anything, unless you counted a pain in the backside, but dutifully turned his attention to the dais.

Harmony seemed to register his attention and turned her attention towards him, gifting him with a wide smile.  Rodney shifted on his feet and nodded at her awkwardly.  He always felt awkward around Harmony, her hero worship which had been gratifying and welcome at first had long since become embarrassing and uncomfortable. Hopefully the speeches would be over soon and he could go back to his pies and then back to his quarters later tonight to enjoy some time with his right hand and the memory of John’s lips brushing against his fingers.

John’s elbow intruded on his thoughts again and Rodney was half-worried that the Colonel had developed some sort of impure thoughts radar.  It wasn’t just John that was staring at him though, the entire room was looking at him in expectation.

“She asked you to join her up there,” John whispered out the side of his mouth as the applause started.  

“What?! Why?”

“I don’t know, McKay.  Just get up there before Woolsey has a stroke.”

Rodney glared at him before making his way through the crowds.  They parted easily for him and he soon found himself standing on the dais next to Harmony. She smiled up at him and clasped his hands in hers, squeezing them gently before turning back to address the crowd.

Rodney really hoped that they weren’t about to unveil another painting of him and found his eyes scouring the crowd for John. He wasn’t hard to pick out - a lone figure in black amongst the sea of silk and finery.  He should have looked like he didn’t belong here, should have stood out like a sore thumb but it didn’t matter how polished and draped in finery everyone else was, John was still the most attractive man in any room.

Before his thoughts drifted back to impure places, Rodney tore his eyes away from John and concentrated on Harmony, Queen Harmony because although John had been joking about Woolsey having a stroke, he knew his life wouldn’t be worth living if he mucked up today.  Richard Woolsey, he had learned, could be a vindictive super genius when he wanted to be.

Harmony grasped at his hand again and Rodney let her.  She really had grown up to be a beautiful young woman, he thought.  If you could call sixteen grown up.  He was idly wondering how Madison was doing these days when the gasp of the crowd and raucous applause brought him back to the present.

Looking around, Rodney could see the people of Larris celebrating, hugging each other and crying joyous tears.  The people of Atlantis however seemed to be shocked to silence - with the exception of Ronon who was laughing so hard that he had tears rolling down his face.

Rodney looked around for John, missing from his spot near the servers and found him stalking towards Woolsey, a look of murder on his face.  Rodney was starting to realise that he had missed something very important.

“Are you all right, my beloved?”  Harmony asked.

Beloved?  Rodney only just then realised that his hand was still entwined with Harmony's own and he tugged it free.  

“Uh, yes. But, um, could you maybe run that last part by me again?  Your majesty.”

Harmony smiled at him and reached up to stroke her small hand against his cheek.  “You are overcome,” she laughed.  “Do not worry,” she said - rapidly increasing Rodney’s worry to its highest level - “there is time yet for you to change before the ceremony.”

The word ceremony did not have pleasant connotations for him when it came to the Pegasus Galaxy, covering everything from being forced to slaughter a chicken to being tied to a pole in the hot midday sun.  Still, maybe this time it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Ceremony?” he prompted.

“The wedding ceremony, silly.  It starts at sundown and then, after almost three years of engagement, we shall finally be wed.”

“Oh, that’s - - wait, WHAT?!”

Chapter Text

“I can’t marry you.”  Rodney’s only nod to diplomacy was pulling Harmony aside to hiss the words at her rather than scream them from the raised platform for the entire kingdom to hear.  

“He can’t marry her.”  John made no attempt to acknowledge diplomacy as he grabbed Woolsey by the arm and started pulling him towards the throne.  “You need to fix this.  Now.”

“Why?” Harmony asked.  “This has been a long time planned, Rodney.  I have been waiting for this moment for many cycles now.  I am of age, I must wed.”

“But do you have to wed...me?” he hissed.  “I mean, you’re sixteen and I’m...well, I’m not sixteen.  Surely there is someone more suitable?  What about him?”  Rodney pointed at a passing young lad of about eighteen.

“He is the cook’s son,” Harmony hissed.  “I am a Queen. And we have been betrothed, you and I, since you first accepted the honour of gracing my walls.  Why are you only voicing your objections now, when it would cause the most embarrassment to me?!”   There was the bratty whine that Rodney remembered.  

God, he hated that painting.

“While I concur with the sentiment, Colonel, I’m not sure how we can get out of this one without embarrassing the Queen and losing an extremely beneficial alliance.”

John spared a backward glance to glare at Woolsey as they pushed their way through the rejoicing crowd.   “Well, think of something. Preferably in the next thirty seconds.”

“I didn’t know the significance of the whole wall honouring thing,” Rodney pleaded.  “That’s not how it’s done in our culture.  There’s an exchanging of promise rings and usually a bit more communication and, well, consent.”  Harmony still looked as though she was walking that thin line between anger and tears and Rodney sighed.  “Your - - Harmony , we, I , didn’t mean to embarrass you and I am truly sorry to do so but I can’t marry you.”

“ Why not ?” she demanded.  “Even if I accept that you did not truly know of this betrothal, what is stopping you from following through?  Our people’s alliance is beneficial to us both, is it not?  You would be a Prince of this land.  We can still get married, there is nothing stopping you.”

Rodney groped frantically through his mind for a reason, something more substantial than “but it’s icky”, but really, the ick factor was hard to get past.  Then it hit him, a flash of inspiration.

“I’m already married,” he blurted.

John and Woolsey arrived at the front of the platform just in time to hear Rodney tell a bald-faced lie to royalty.  Woolsey’s raised eyebrows and the cautious but appraising tilt of his head told John all he needed to know about how likely that lie was to succeed.  All it needed was a little substantive evidence.

“To whom?” Harmony said.  “You have never mentioned a wife to us on your visits.”

Rodney froze.  “Ah….”

“To me,” John’s voice interrupted his flailing attempt to think of a suitable imaginary wife.  

Rodney turned around to see John and Woolsey make their way up the steps of the dais.  John’s eyes said ‘follow my lead’ and Rodney relaxed.  He trusted John.  Everything would be all right, John would get him out of this and - - his back stiffened as John’s arm snaked around his waist.   What the - -

“He’s already married to me ,” John said again.  “So, you’ll understand why we can’t possibly follow through with this marriage.”

What the - -

“The Colonel ?” Harmony asked, distaste dripping from her voice.  “You married a man such as Colonel Sheppard?”

What the - -

John’s fingers dug into his hip and Rodney bit down on a yelp and got with the program.  “Yes,” he said, putting his own arm around John’s, “we’ve been married for - oh - how long is it now?”

John smiled into Rodney’s panicked eyes.  “It’s been almost six months now, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

“Ah, no,” Rodney made an attempt at an answering smile.  “Of course not, you’re right.  I, ah, well, you can see why I didn’t mention it to anyone here,” he said to Harmony.  “I know that your opinion of Colonel Sheppard is - well - it seemed wise not to bring it up last time I visited.”

If looks could kill, John was pretty sure that Harmony would have murdered him a dozen times over.  He smiled benignly at her as he pulled Rodney closer.

“Well, annul it,” Harmony demanded.  “Rodney is my beloved and I will not be made to look a fool!”

“Harmony,” Princess Flora interrupted for the first time, shooting an apologetic look at John.  “You know the laws of Larris only allow annulment when no consummation has occurred and - - “

“Oh, we consummated it alright,”  John grinned.  “We consummated the hell out of it.”

“Yes, thank you Colonel, we get the picture,” Richard stepped in with a long-suffering sigh.  Sometimes he really regretted leaving his office and suits for this.  “Queen Harmony, Princess Flora.  Perhaps we could all adjourn somewhere more private and come to some conclusion on this matter.  The last thing any of us want to do is create bad blood between us or destabilise your standing with your subjects.  I’m sure we can come to a suitable compromise.”

“Of course,” Princess Flora agreed.  “This way, please.”

Richard smiled pleasantly at Queen Harmony as she flounced past him and followed the women into a private receiving room, trusting that Abbot and Costello , Colonel Sheppard and Dr McKay would follow.

He could hear them grumbling as they walked behind him, Dr McKay hissing ‘ what are you doing? ’ and ‘ was it really necessary to smile quite that much while saying the word consummated? ’ while the Colonel’s low drawl answered lazily.  He was willing to bet that the stifled grunt that followed was caused by Dr. McKay’s elbows digging into the Colonel’s ribs.

Well, at least not-one should have any trouble believing them as a married couple , he thought.

Rodney was pretty sure this is what a stroke felt like - or at least an incipient stroke.  John Sheppard’s arm was around his waist; John Sheppard’s fingers were stroking absently at his hip; and apparently they were married.

When exactly had his life become this ridiculous?

Probably right around the time that a certain flyboy had walked onto a top-secret base and ignored all orders not to touch anything.  Well, John certainly didn’t have a problem with touching right now.  It was all kinds of distracting, especially when Rodney was trying to pay attention to the conversation that was being held by Woolsey and Princess Flora with the occasional interjection from Harmony.  A conversation that could potentially end with him having to marry a girl young enough to be his daughter.  He really should care more about concentrating on the matter at hand but he didn’t quite have the strength to tell John to stop.

Of course he didn’t, it had always been John.

Rodney.

God, Rodney .  

John was filled with mixed emotions as they entered the private chamber.  Touching Rodney like this, holding Rodney close, was incredible.  It was a joy that he had denied himself - a habit of a lifetime - and finally being able to indulge was simultaneously both the best and worst feeling in the world.  On top of that, he was trying to bite back on the very real fear that he could end up losing Rodney.  If this didn’t work, if the people of Larris demanded that this marriage went ahead...it didn’t bear thinking about.

He knew he should be concentrating more on the discussion but Rodney was so damn distracting.  The heat of his skin beneath the thin blue fabric of his shirt called to John and it was taking most of his control not to tease his fingers underneath, to press against the pale skin hidden behind.  Rodney’s body was a searing hot line against him, surprisingly firm with just a hint of softness still lingering, a softness that John wanted to bury himself in.  He wasn’t strong enough to stop.

Of course he wasn’t, it had always been Rodney.

“This is unacceptable,” Harmony whined.  “I refuse to look a fool.  If the marriage contract must be ended then it has to be ended by me.”

Richard nodded his head in what he hoped was a gracious manner.  “A wise observation.  And a compromise that we would happily accept.  What would your people see as an acceptable reason for ending the betrothment?”

“Besides him already being married?” John muttered.  

“Yes,” Richard glared, “besides that.”

“Traditionally, a betrothal can only be broken if there is a third party involved with whom one of the betrothed has fornicated with - - “

“That’s exactly this situation,” Dr. McKay interrupted Princess Flora’s’ explanation, “with all of the, uh, fornicating.”

“Yes, Dr McKay, but as that scenario could be seen as rather embarrassing for her majesty, we need to come up with another reason,” Richard was quick to sooth Harmony’s umbrage.  “Please continue, Princess.”

“The only other reason that would be accepted by the people is if one of the betrothed were not able to produce a child.”

“Ah,” Richard hoped that Dr. McKay’s ego wouldn’t mind taking the hit.  

“Wait, what?!”

Richard sighed.

“You want me to say that I’m INFERTILE! Absolutely not!  That’s, that’s - - “

“ Rodney ,” the Colonel always seemed to be able to say Dr. McKay’s name in a way that stopped his ranting mid-stream.  Richard envied that ability.  “I don’t see how we have a choice.  Unless you’d rather divorce me and marry Queen Harmony.”

“I would never marry a  divorcé,” Harmony sniffed.  “It is against our laws.”

“Of course,” Richard interjected once again.  “Doctor, can we agree that this is the best course of action?”

The Colonel and Dr. McKay exchanged a look and Richard relaxed as Dr. McKay visibly deflated.

“Fine,” he agreed.  “Let’s get the humiliation over with.”

Richard smiled, pleased with himself.  Another successful negotiation and another amusing anecdote to share with the IOA during their annual mixer.

“ - - So, as sad as this decision was, I’m sure you’ll all join me in wishing Dr. McKay and his husband many happy years of infertility together.” Harmony smiled meanly at them both and Rodney was pretty sure that there would be no more mini pies in his future.

A polite smattering of applause couldn’t drown out the whispered gossip of the crowd (or the booming laugh of Ronon) and all in all, Rodney would have classed this as one of the worst days of his life.  If only John would stop touching him.

He pulled John off the stupid platform and towards the ‘gate as soon as they were dismissed.  All he wanted was to get home and go to bed and forget certain parts of this day had happened (while remembering other parts in blessed privacy) but of course the crowd had other ideas.

A mixture of sombre congratulations and gleeful commiserations were endured as he tried to force his way to the ‘gate.  Only John’s warm hand at his back anchored him, stopped him from snapping and ruining the alliance that he had only just saved at a great personal cost.

John made sure to keep in physical contact with Rodney as the crowds pushed in.  He could feel the tightened coil of Rodney’s control and knew it wouldn’t take much to let it loose.  If Harmony had been a brat back when he first met her, she was another word beginning with b (a word Teyla would kick his ass for even voicing in his thoughts) now.  

“Almost home, buddy,” John murmured, stroking his hand up and down Rodney’s back. He was gratified to feel the slight lessening of tension at his words and actions.

Ronon and Teyla were waiting for them at the ‘gate.  Teyla looked as composed as ever but Ronon was practically bouncing with amusement.  Thankfully, one hard look from him was enough to tell Ronon that now really wasn’t the time unless he wanted to deal with an exploding McKay and he kept his mouth shut even if he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face.

They were through the ‘gate and home in a blink and John reluctantly withdrew his hand from Rodney’s back.  

God, he already missed it.

“Well, that was…” John trailed off and looked hopefully at Teyla.

“Yes,” she agreed helpfully. “It was.”

“I’m going to bed,” Rodney muttered.  “And Conan?  You get tomorrow morning to laugh about this but then we never speak of it ever again, understood?”

Ronon nodded. “Understood.  Here,” he held out a wrapped cloth to Rodney.  “I swiped the rest of those pies that you loved.”

Rodney looked at him with surprise.  “OK, you get a full day.  Goodnight.  Teyla.  Colonel.”

John sighed as Rodney walked away.  It was never a good sign when Rodney went back to calling him by rank.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna head off to bed too,” he said.  

“I bet you are,” Ronon grinned.

“One day, Chewie,” John cautioned.  “One day.”

Ronon’s laugh followed him out the room.  Well, he thought, at least his fake marriage ended better than his real one.

Chapter Text

Rodney woke up the next morning still sticky from the night before.  He had been too exhausted and pleasantly sated to bother with cleaning up last night, boneless and sleepy in the best kind of way, but in the cold light of day it was just another reminder of how humiliating yesterday had been.

He didn't know how he was going to face the labs today.  It would have been bad enough that he was almost press ganged into marrying a sixteen year old (the dirty old man jokes write themselves) but then he had to stand there as the sixteen year old brat told the entire population of Larris and half the Atlantis senior team that he couldn't get it up.  

He knew that the story would be all over the city by now.  Atlantis' gossip grapevine was the most efficient and effective that Rodney had ever seen, a pinnacle amongst military grapevines.  It was also the most vicious.  Being disliked and feared by most of his staff had many benefits but it made him an exceptionally popular target when it came to gossip.  Especially when the gossip was this humiliating.

God, all he wanted to do was bury back under his covers and hide.  But the stickiness - the unwelcome reminder that he had jacked off to the memory of John's fingers brushing the small of his back, his hip, like the dirty old man they entire city was no doubt talking about - forced him up and into the shower, idly wondering if wishing for a Wraith attack right about now was in bad taste.

The whispers and snickering he heard as he walked the halls to his lab were as prevalent as he expected them to be.  Rodney held his head as high as he could and brandished his best death glare at his staff as he entered the lab, daring any of them to speak a word.  

Nobody did.  Gratified that he still had it, Rodney barricaded himself into his lab and resolved to work himself to the bone until some new piece of gossip had reared it's head, or a Wraith attack re-prioritised the staffs concerns.

Zelenka interrupted him around lunch time to push a sandwich at him.

“Eat,” he demanded.  “If you must be ridiculous little girl and hide away then so be it but I will not have Colonel Sheppard blaming me for you working yourself into the infirmary again.”  Radek trailed off into a string of Czech; cursing Rodney blind no doubt.  

“How bad is it?” Rodney asked.  

Radek sighed.  “Is not so bad as you think,” he said.  “People talk, yes, but it is nothing that has not been gossiped and spoken of before many times.”

“ What? ”  Rodney squawked.  “What do you mean many times?”

“I mean many times,” Radek shrugged.  “This is not the first time anyone has suspected of what was said in Larris.”

“Not the first - - “ Rodney felt his blood boiling.  “Exactly how many times has my - my completely imaginary impotence been a subject of gossip?” he hissed.

Radek raised his eyebrows in surprise, giving him the look of a somewhat startled owl.  “Impotence?” he coughed.  “Oh dear, no.  They do not talk of - - that. I mean the talk of you and Colonel Sheppard.”

“What talk of me and Colonel Sheppard?”

“The talk that has been rampant on and off for the past five years,”  Radek looked at Rodney like he was a - a botanist or something else decidedly slow.  “That you and the Colonel are, well, more than friends if you know what I mean?”

“That we’re...what?”  Rodney shook his head.  “Of all the things that happened yesterday, that’s what people are gossiping about?  Me and Sheppard?”

Radek nodded.  “Is favourite pastime of most of base.  You did not know this?”

Rodney pushed the remainder of his sandwich away and stood up, slightly panicked.  “No, I didn’t know!”  He paced the length of his office.  “What are they saying?”

“It varies,” Radek said.  “Some say that there is truth in claim that you are secretly married, others that it is not true but you both wish it were.  They are bored,  you and Colonel are entertainment for long time.”

Rodney blinked, adjusting his world view for a second.  “But, that’s ridiculous,” he blurted.  “Sheppard is way too hot for me.”

Radek coughed and bit the inside of his cheek and Rodney realised that his words could be taken as an admission of something.

“I mean, objectively speaking,” he clarified.

“Of course,” Radek still sounded far too amused for Rodney’s liking and suddenly the office felt far too small.  It should have been a relief to find out that no one was speaking about the humiliating lies that Harmony had told but somehow knowing that the entire city seemed to be gossiping about him and John, together.  Together in a way that Rodney had accepted would never happen, could never happen.

He needed to speak to John.

And devise a way to get back at Radek for the choked laughter he heard behind him as soon as he left the office.

John was not having a good day.  

He had woken up alone - nothing new there.  But something was off.  The empty space next to him had bothered him this morning in a way that it never had before.  Hell, since finding the bigger beds hidden in an unexplored part of the city six months ago, he had been in heaven.  The empty space next to him was a welcome luxury, much preferable to the narrow, rock hard monstrosities that they had been dealing with before then.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, his trip to the mess hall for breakfast had made it abundantly clear that the rumours about him and Rodney had flared up again;  a direct result of their two hour long fake marriage from the day before.

John sighed as he pushed the paperwork about his desk.  He didn’t mind the rumours, never had really, not matter how close they got to the truth about his own feelings for Rodney.  Most of the time he was just heartened to know that the majority of the city were open minded enough to serve under a military commander that they thought was in a sexual relationship with a very male Canadian astrophysicist.  Something was different this time though and John suspected it had something to do with the way McKay’s body had felt pressed close to his yesterday, the small of his back, the curve of his hip.  

It made the whole thing suddenly more tangible.  More real.  More agonising.

John shutdown the computer in front of him and leaned back in his chair, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.  Jesus, he was screwed.

The sound of his office door opening roused him from his self pity.  John looked up to see Rodney standing in front of his desk, an attractive flush of red in his cheeks.

“Did you know?” Rodney asked accusingly.

“Hello to you too, Rodney,” he said.  “Did I know what?”

“What they’re saying about us.”

John sighed.  “What who is saying is about us?”

“Everyone,” Rodney threw his hands up.  “Atlantis.”

John closed his eyes for a second.  He knew the rumours and gossip would spread to Rodney eventually, and he’d had five years to prepare for it.  Rodney really could be surprisingly slow when it came to some things.

He was about to launch into his well rehearsed speech about how it was just idle gossip, harmless and not worth causing a fuss over when his and Rodney’s radios flared to life.

“Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay?” Woolsey sounded about as un-put together as John had ever heard him and he stood up from his chair, fully alert.  “Can you please join me in my office immediately.  We have a slight situation.”

Rodney’s wide eyes met John’s and he could see his own worry reflected in them.  “We’re on our way,” he said.  “Sheppard out.”

He pulled Rodney out the door with him and they both rushed to the nearest transporter.  Gossip and rumours of their supposed relationship would have to wait.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Rodney was convinced that he must have misheard.

“I am as surprised by this turn of events as you are, Dr. McKay,” Woolsey attempted to placate him.  “But the fact remains that we have already received several messages from allied worlds that wish to celebrate the, ah, the happy news.”

“The happy news,” Rodney repeated.  He turned to John for backup but the Colonel looked as unflappable as usual.  “John,” he implored, “tell him that this is a non-issue.  We just tell the good people of M7G-677 and the rest that we’re not really married and that there’s nothing to celebrate.  No harm, no foul.  Right?”

Woolsey sighed and opened his mouth to launch into a not doubt long and boring lecture but John beat him to it with a simple shake of the head.

“Won’t work,” he said, plainly.

“Why the hell not?”

John beat Woolsey to the punch again.

“Because, Rodney , if word of our marriage,”  Rodney could hear the air quotes in his words and made a note to berate him later, “has already spread to other worlds, then any truths we told these other people would just get back to Harmony and her people.  They would know we lied to them.  I may not know them as well as you do but I think it’s pretty safe to say that they won’t be happy.”

Rodney didn’t need to look at Woolsey to know the truth in that.  Defeated, he slumped into one of the uncomfortable chairs that Woolsey had brought in from Earth.

“So, what?” he said.  “We lie to everyone?  To Keras?  To the Taranians, the Travellers?”

Woolsey stood up from behind his desk and crossed his arms.  “Simply put?  Yes.”

Rodney closed his eyes and tried very hard to imagine that this wasn’t happening.  

“What exactly are we talking about?” he heard John ask.

Rodney kept his eyes closed and calculated pi to the 420th decimal while Woolsey outlined the plan.

“Most of the worlds that have been in contact merely wish to celebrate the news with us.  Some have just sent their regards while others, like M7G-677 have informed us of their desire to hold a celebration in your honour.”

Rodney started to gently thunk his head against the wall behind him.

“So, we visit these planets, let them honour us and then that’s it?”  John seemed to be taking this all much better than Rodney was, although he was sure that he could hear a slight undercurrent of panic in John’s voice; the same tone he got whenever the latest alien princess started throwing themselves at him.  It made Rodney feel slightly better.  But not better enough to stop from banging his head against the wall.

“Primarily, yes,”  Woolsey confirmed.  “Of course, you’ll have to keep up the ruse for any subsequent visits but that shouldn’t be much of an issue.”

Rodney’s eyes were still closed but he got the sense that John nodded (probably feeling the air displacement from those ridiculous spikes moving).  “That makes sense,” Rodney heard him say.  “And it’s not like it would change much.  We already share quarters most times offworld and any lack of intimacy could be explained by cultural differences or professional distance.  Jesus, McKay, would you stop that?”

Rodney’s eyes flew open as he felt a warm hand bat against his head in place of the wall.  

“I don’t like lying to these people any more than you do,”  John said, “but I don’t see that we have a choice.  Unless the resident genius can come up with anything?”

Rodney glared at him half-heartedly before sighing and looking away.  “No,” he admitted.  

“All right then,”  Woolsey uncrossed his arms and nodded.  “You’re scheduled to go to M7G-677 tomorrow for three days.”

“T hree days ?” Rodney groaned.

Woolsey ignored him and continued.  “And I’ll have Amelia draft a schedule for the other planets that wish to celebrate with you.”

John nodded and pulled Rodney up from the chair when he showed no signs of moving.  “We’ll start packing,” he said, pushing Rodney out the door.

“And gentlemen?” Woolsey stopped them before they could leave.  “I don’t have to tell you how much is riding on this.”  He seemed to be directing the caution mainly to Rodney, which he felt was incredibly unfair.

John pinched the skin just above the waistband of his pants before he could start to tell Woolsey how unfair his insinuations were, shutting him up.

“We know, Sir.”  John answered.  “We won’t muck it up.”

The flash of Woolsey’s face he saw before John shoved him out the door was enough to show Rodney that the man remained as unconvinced as he was, because whichever way Rodney chose to look at:  they were screwed.

Chapter Text

Keras beamed happily as John walked through the gate and into the sunshine of M7G-677. Keras was in his early 30s now and the early indication of a male pattern baldness that he had shown all those years ago had been allowed to culminate in a receding hairline that rivalled McKay's. He wore it well, like a badge of honour, which John supposed it was. He just hoped that Keras and the others took to the other aspects of growing old as gracefully.

Teyla, Ronon and Rodney stepped out of the wormhole just behind him. From the way that Rodney struggled to correct his balance, John was pretty sure that Ronon had gotten fed up with the dithering and pushed him through.

The next three days were going to be long.

"Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay, thank you for allowing us to share in this celebration with you." Keras greeted them with a wide, joyful grin that made John feel about an inch tall.

"Yeah, well, thanks for inviting us. Happy to be here," John put his best diplomatic smile on and brushed his elbow against Rodney in a way that he hoped could be taken as a caress rather than the "man the hell up, McKay" that it was.

"Yes," Rodney's strength of voice surprised John. "We're both so happy to be here." Rodney's arm snaked it's way around John's waist and held on tight.

Keras beamed even harder and gestured for them to follow him. The gathered group of kids (anyone younger than 30 was still a kid to John although he's not sure when that had happened) smiled and laughed and clapped them on the shoulders as Keras led them towards their guest quarters for the duration but John barely registered any of it, so caught up in the feeling of Rodney's large hand on his waist.

"What are you doing?" he hissed in Rodney's ear.

Rodney's smile remained firmly in place as he hissed back. "If we have to do this then we're doing it right."

John groaned. The next three days were going to be torture.

The quarters they were shown to were mercifully located on the ground rather than up a tree.

"We have had to make some changes to our way of living to accommodate the new ways," Keras admitted ruefully.

"Knees, right?" John grinned. "Getting older's a bitch."

"Perhaps, but it's a welcome one," Keras said. "I'll let you all settle and put your things away. There will be a feast this sundown, followed by a celebration. The children have prepared some festivities."

John nodded in understanding as Keras retreated, taking Ronon and Teyla with him. Leaving him and Rodney alone in what was essentially the M7G-677 version of the honeymoon suite.

"Well, I feel about an inch tall, how 'bout you?" John sighed as he sat down on the stuffed pallet that would be their bed.

"Hmm," Rodney hummed noncommittally as he poked his fingers into the bowl of fruit on a nearby table.

"Hmm?" John felt his anger prickling at the back of his neck. "That's all you have to say? And what the hell was with the touchy freely crap out there?"

Rodney turned to glare at him. "Well, forgive me for trying to keep this from becoming a bigger mess than it already is, Colonel. We want them to buy this, don't we?"

"Well, yeah but," John sighed, look, just give me some warning next time, OK?"

"Consider yourself warned, Colonel. I'm not going to ask permission every time I touch you, that wouldn't really sell the whole married thing, would it?" Rodney dismissed him as he started to open his pack, dumping a ridiculous amount of chocolate provisions on the bed.

"Well, fine," John drawled. "Same to you, I guess."

"I'll try to contain myself."

John closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Well, good." McKay slapped at his hand as he tried to grab some of the chocolate and John had to wonder if they weren't married after all.

Chapter Text

Rodney had still been smarting at the unfairness of it all when Ronon had not so gently pushed him through the ‘gate.  Messing with John was the easiest way to help restore his equilibrium but when he saw how uncomfortable his touches made John, Rodney felt guilty.

Guilt wasn’t exactly a feeling that he needed more time with, not with the way that his guts twisted every time Keras or one of the other far too youthful elders of M7G-677 looked at them like they were the ultimate goal in happiness.

So, despite his snarky words to John when they had been shown into their tent for the next three days, Rodney vowed to keep his hands to himself for the rest of the trip.

It was funny how his resolve not to touch John only served to highlight just how much he and John did touch in the course of their day to day life.  

Rodney had caught himself invading John’s space as he stretched to better reach the tray of pastries that looked much more tempting than the ones that sat at the side of his own place setting and opened his mouth to apologise before realising that John didn’t seem to care at all.  There was none of the fluster that had accompanied his moves this morning, instead John simply rolled his eyes and moved the tray closer, but not so close that Rodney didn’t still have to reach over him.

Munching on the flaky pastry, Rodney found himself deep in thought, cataloguing all the casual touches.  John herding him to the raised platform that they now sat on with a guiding hand at his back, John pulling him away from a teasing Ronon with a firm grip on his upper arm.  If asked, Rodney would have said without compromise that John Sheppard was one of the most touch averse people he knew but just five seconds of contemplation on the subject proved him a liar.  

Given these new facts, Rodney was confused about John’s reaction to his more overt touching earlier.  Was an arm around the waist really any more intimate than a hand at the small of his back? Maybe John was as blind to these touches as Rodney had been until two minutes ago.  

The sudden hush of the crowd surrounding them brought Rodney back to awareness.  John motioned with his head for Rodney to pay attention to the festivities, his eyes promising something unpleasant if he screwed this up.  Rodney felt himself start to draw up, the prickle of offence at John’s presumptuousness that he would be the one to screw up making him straighten his spine.  That offence dissipated as quickly as it had arisen.  All it took was the uptick of John’s mouth and the distracted, almost thoughtless, way that John’s hand reached up to brush a flake of pastry off of Rodney’s own chin.  Rodney startled at the touch that John already seemed to have forgotten as he turned his attention to the seven small figures in the empty space in front of their table.

Right, the festivities.  No doubt something primitive and below his consideration.  The fact that it was a welcome distraction from the chaos of his own thoughts and hopes in the wake of this new information was a testament to how screwed up this whole situation really was.

God, he hoped there would be alcohol to get him through this.

Rodney applauded along with the rest of the crowd after the inane song and dance routine was over.  Twenty minutes of his life he'd never get back but at least he'd developed enough social graces to refrain from voicing that thought.  John’s smirk suggested that he knew Rodney's feelings anyway and the only thing that stopped Rodney from making a biting remark was the way that John was already filtering the trays of food towards Rodney, after quickly checking each one for the presence of citrus.

How long had John been doing that?

Much like his earlier pondering, a couple of seconds of thought made it clear that John had been carrying out that particular task almost since the start.  Rodney had never hesitated to eat anything off-world, safe in the knowledge that his team - that John - wouldn't let him come to harm.

Huh.

His musings were interrupted by a sharp elbow digging into his side.  Surprised, Rodney looked up at John who jerked his head to indicate the small blonde person standing expectantly on the other side of their table.

“Yes, what?” he snapped.

The girl didn't bat an eyelid at the gruff reply, just beamed harder and Rodney groaned.  God, he felt old.

“Cleo?” he asked.

Cleo laughed, delighted. “I told Keras that you would remember me!  Do you have any chocolate?”

John laughed as Rodney grudgingly reached into his pocket and drew out some gold wrapped chocolate that Cleo quickly snapped up and ran off with.

“Softie,” John teased.

Rodney tried to shake off the pleased feeling that John's teasing brought.  He shrugged.  “It's nice to see that she's still a kid.”

“She can't be more than 12 or 13, of course she's still a kid.”

Rodney stopped eating long enough to throw a withering look at John.  “12 or 13 is what used to be classed as middle aged for these people.  Did you pay attention to how things were here?  There were fifteen-year-olds waddling about pregnant.”

John chewed slowly, mulling Rodney's words over.  Swallowing, he looked a little green.  “Ok, I see your point,” he admitted.  He looked around at the mix of people and really noticed the differences from last time.  There were no thirteen-year-olds with war paint, no little kids serving the food, the kids were allowed to be kids.  He grinned at Rodney.  “Feels kinda nice to know we were a part of that, huh?”

Rodney smiled faintly.  “I think you're forgetting that I nearly got them all culled.   This ,” he gestured to the new way of life surrounding them, “is all them.”

For just a second, Rodney thought that John was going to reach out for him, crossing the line from their casual touches to something more blatant but the moment passed.  Instead, John moved a ‘chicken’ wing from his plate onto Rodney's.

Rodney was starting to realise that, really, it amounted to the same thing.

After the last of the feast had been polished off, John and Rodney soon found themselves surrounded by eager little faces wanting to hear the story of how they had both single-handedly fought off a dozen Wraith to save the planet.  

Keras shrugged unapologetically at Rodney's disbelieving look.  “The story has grown arms and legs over the years,” he laughed.  

John rolled with it, spinning a story that had Teyla laughing merrily and Ronon rolling his eyes.  Rodney sat back, content to listen.  He had a lot to think about after all.

An urgent hand pulled at his sleeve.  Rodney dragged his eyes from John, whose face was animated and happy as he spun tales of daring for his little audience, and turned towards a small boy who couldn't be much older than Torren.

“How come you married another boy?” he asked.

Oh God, Rodney was so qualified to field this one.  Desperately, he tried to flag down someone else's attention but they were all focused on John and his charm.

Rodney knew how they felt.

The kid continued, unperturbed by Rodney's frantic panic.  “Boys can't have babies.  I know, ‘cos I asked Aries and he told me.”

“I fail to see the correlation,” Rodney replied.  He got a confused frown for his troubles.  He made a mental note to speak to Woolsey about sending some educational supplies through the ‘gate when they got back.  In the meantime, he did his best to explain.  “Just because boys can't have babies doesn't mean they can't marry each other.  You don't get married because you want to have children, you marry because you love each other.”

The boy’s eyes widened.  “Boys can love other boys?”  

Oh for...he sounded so hopeful and Rodney was really not qualified for this.  Only Cleo seemed to catch on to his need for help as she came barrelling over.  “Keras explained it to us all,” she butted in.  “Boys can love other boys and girls can love other girls.  I'm going to marry Jyn when I’m older,” she declared, beaming at another, older girl.

They had started to draw attention away from the others now.  

“But what if you want to have a baby?” someone else asked.

“I’ll adopt,” Cleo answered smugly.  “There's lots and lots of kids without families on almost every world.  I'll look after one of them.”

The young boy who had started the conversation turned his big green eyes towards Rodney.  “Is that what you and Colonel Sheppard will do?”

Everyone was definitely paying attention now.

Rodney floundered, completely unable to answer the question.  Lying to these people about their relationship was one thing but bringing kids into it would cross a line that Rodney didn't even know he had.

John took the hit for him.  

John always took the hit for him.

“We haven't spoken about that yet,” he answered diplomatically.  Elizabeth would have been proud.

The small boy frowned, obviously trying to puzzle this new information out.  “But why?” he asked.  “Do you not think Dr. McKay would make a good parent?”

The fact that it was his parenting skills that were immediately called into question hurt.  Rodney tried not to let it show.  It was probably true.  John would make an excellent parent, he'd be the cool Dad, the favourite, while Rodney…

“Rodney would make a great Dad.”  John's voice cut in.  His hand reached across to grab Rodney's own, entwining their fingers together.  

It was the first time that John had crossed the casual touching line and Rodney felt like he might burst into flames.

“We’re taking time to enjoy marriage right now,” John explained.  “Who knows what the future holds?”  He turned to smile at Rodney, squeezing his hand.  “Right?”

Rodney cleared his throat, lest it gave him away.  “Right,” he answered weakly.

The chatter of the gathered crowd signified the end of the conversation and they went back to more tales of Atlantis heroics.  

John never let go of Rodney's hand for the rest of the evening.

The festivities ran late into the night and by the time they got back to their tent Rodney was too exhausted to feel awkward about slipping into bed with John.

The mattress wasn't the worst he'd had the misfortune to sleep on but he knew that he'd be hurting in the morning anyway.  While Keras’ people may have had to make accommodations for their knees by getting rid of the tree houses and rope ladders, they obviously hadn't reached the stage of making accommodations for bad backs.

“You gonna be ok?” John whispered but it sounded loud in the quiet of the tent.

“It's only for two nights.  I'll survive.”

John looked unconvinced but nodded anyway.  He stripped off his t-shirt and lay down in the bed next to Rodney.  

It wasn't their first time sharing a bed, they were no strangers to making do when off-world, but it still felt different.  Not awkward.   Loaded .  Maybe that was the right word.

Rodney stared at the woven roof of their tent and tried to will sleep to come.  The irregularity of John’s breathing made it clear that he was having trouble drifting off too.

The darkness made it easier to ask John the question that had been burning in his mind for the last few hours.

“Did you mean it?”  

To give him credit, John didn't pretend to not know what Rodney was asking.  Maybe he hadn't been as successful as he'd thought at not showing the hurt on his face earlier.

“I wouldn't lie to these people any more than we have to,” John said quietly.  “You will make a great Dad.”

Those words went more to Rodney than John would ever know.  “We spoke about it.  Me and Jennifer. I don't think she agreed with you.”

John shifted on the mattress next to him.  “Yeah, well I always did think she was an idiot.”

Rodney smiled.  John had always made his feelings for Jennifer clear, even when he thought he was being subtle.  “Have you thought about it?” he asked.  “Adopting a kid from here?”

John was slow to answer.  “Sometimes.  I don't know how good I'd be but...sometimes.”

“Fishing for compliments, Colonel?” Rodney teased.

“No more than you were,” John smiled.  “And I haven't gotten any yet.”

“Please.  You know you'd be  natural.”  Rodney sighed heavily as he tried to find a comfortable position on the bed.  “Is it fair?  Adopting a Pegasus kid?  This isn't our galaxy, we might have to leave.”

Rodney felt John's head shake. “This might not be our galaxy but it's home.  I'm not planning on letting them force me to leave again.”

Rodney smiled. It might be treasonous but he fully agreed.  “Me either,” he said.

“Good,” John huffed, pulling the blanket tighter.  “Get some sleep, Rodney.  We're not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Rodney drifted off to sleep with a warm, heavy weight next to him and a warm, happy feeling in his stomach.

Chapter Text

John was distracted and it was going to get him killed.

He had been distracted since this morning.  Waking up with Rodney's arm tossed across his body, Rodney's legs tangled in his own and Rodney's breath tickling the back of his neck was a new level of hell.  It had happened before, they'd shared a bed space off-world too many times for it not to, but it had never made him crazy like this before.  At least, not to this level.
Maybe it was the way that John could still remember the feel of Rodney's hand in his own from the night before, the surprised, pleased smile on his face when John said he would be a good parent.  Or maybe it was the fact that John was head over heels in love with Rodney and losing his ability to hide it.

Distracted didn't quite cover it.

"Down!"

John ducked as an arrow sailed over his head.

A hunting trip really wasn't the best time or place for him to be lost in thoughts of Rodney.

Ronon's hand clamped down firmly on his shoulder.  "Get your head in the game, Sheppard.  I'm not explaining to your husband how you got shot hunting for game."

Ronon was far too amused by this whole thing but he had a point.  Shaking himself, John nodded and fell into step behind the rest of the hunting party.  They walked in silence for a while, trying to capture the trail of another meal.

Keras hung back to keep him company and walked easily beside him.  He broke the silence.

"You must love him very much," he said.  "I don't think I've ever seen you so preoccupied on a hunt."

John shrugged, the tension in his shoulders making it jerky and uncomfortable.  "It's been awhile since I hunted," he admitted.  "I must have lost the knack."

Keras smiled sadly.  "It is true.  We have missed your presence this past ten month.  We were very glad that you accepted our invitation this time.  Major Lorne is always welcome here but my people have a lot to thank you for.  I am happy that you are here with us now.”

As if John needed any additional reasons to feel like a tool.

"You know how it is," he said.  

"The burden of a leader is a great one." Keras nodded.  "I will admit that I was surprised to hear about the joining of you and Dr. McKay."

John looked up sharply and realised that he and Keras had fallen behind the rest of the group.  He wondered if Keras had separated them on purpose, wondered if he suspected the ruse.

"I did not mean to cause offence," Keras soothed.  "Dr. McKay is well loved amongst my people."

John relaxed.  It was true.  The kids here loved Rodney in the way that all little kids seemed to.  John thought it was his unflinching honesty that did it. Well, that and the chocolate.

"Men coming together like that is rare here.  I won't say that it doesn't happen but," Keras smiled ruefully, "it was something that remained secret."

John got the feeling that Keras was speaking from personal experience.  He raised his eyebrows in query and Keras flushed before nodding.

"It's..." John struggled to find the correct words and found himself wishing that Teyla hadn’t stayed in the village with Rodney and the younger kids.  She was much more suited to these sorts of conversations.  "It wasn't always possible for relationships like that to be spoken of amongst my people either," he eventually settled on.  

Keras looked thoughtful.  "Is that why you hid it from us?" he asked.

John snapped a branch off a nearby bush and stripped it of its leaves as they walked, buying some time to consider how to answer.  "It isn't just you that we've lied to," he finally said. Funny how the truth didn't set him free.

Keras nodded in a false understanding.  John really hated lying to him.  

"I am glad to see you both happy.  My people think much of you both.  It gives me hope that things will change here too."

John forced a smile on his face.  "You got your eye on someone?" he teased.

"Not someone who can return the feelings," Keras answered quietly.

"Well, you never know..." John trailed off as he deciphered the look in Keras' eyes.  "Oh."  He dropped the now stripped branch onto the forest floor and scratched the back of his neck.  "I, ah, you're a great guy but.."

Keras was looking at him with such longing that John felt his throat close up.  This was unexpected.  Despite Rodney's long-running Kirk accusations, John really never saw this coming.  He had no idea what to say and took a step back, putting a degree of space between them just as Keras reached out to touch him.

Keras smiled sadly and nodded.  "I - -"

"Sheppard!" Ronon's booming voice caused Keras to flinch.

"We're done," Ronon said.  He gestured to the brace of birds draped around his neck and John could see the others struggling with a four-legged beast behind him.  Ronon's eyes narrowed as he took in the awkward air surrounding them.  

Ronon had always had an uncanny ability to judge a situation accurately with just a look.  He wrapped a large hand around John's arm and pulled him away from Keras.  "Let's get back," he said shortly.  "To your husband ."

John thought that those words were directed at Keras rather than him.  

He hoped so anyway.

"Nothing happened."

Silence.

"Really.  Nothing happened.  Kid's got a crush.  That's it."

Silence.

"You're being awfully quiet there, Chewie."

Silence.

"C'mon, it's not like I would have been doing anything wrong even if something had happened.  This is all fake."

"You know, you and McKay can be really stupid sometimes."

John avoided Keras and Ronon for the rest of the walk back.  He avoided everything, especially thinking about Ronon's parting shot, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other instead, glad of the treacherous ground.  This whole thing - the fake marriage thing - was getting more and more complicated, even while John's own feelings were getting less and less complicated by the second.

Walking back into the village to see Rodney sitting in the middle of the clearing, his hands waving around excitedly as he tried to explain the meaning of pi to a bunch of kids who didn't even know what pie was, felt like a kick in the stomach.  The wave of fondness threatened to bowl him over.

He saw Ronon make a beeline for Teyla and knew that it meant trouble.  There was no way he was letting Rodney hear about Keras' moves from anyone else.  John headed straight towards Rodney and, ignoring the catcalls, pulled him up to his feet and herded him towards their tent.

"I thought we'd agreed to downplay this side of things," Rodney complained, rubbing at his arm.  "You know what they think we're doing in here, don't you?  I'm letting you explain to the kids exactly what two men get up to behind closed tent flaps."

"Keras hit on me."

Rodney's mouth snapped shut.

"I didn't take him up on it, nothing happened but Keras hit on me and Ronon saw and I didn't want you hearing it from him."

Rodney seemed to reboot as John trailed off, blinking hard before his mouth turned up in an amused smirk.  "Well, of course, you didn't take him up on it," he said.  "I almost feel sorry for the kid, he's clearly not your type."

"Too young," John agreed.

Rodney flinched like he'd just been slapped in the face.

"What?"

Rodney shook his head unconvincingly.  "Nothing," he said.  "What could possibly be wrong?  Keras hit on you and you weren't interested because he's too young.  Which is a very legitimate reason not to be interested.  Why would anything be wrong with that?"

"Rodney." John took a step towards Rodney, holding his hands out like he was trying to soothe an agitated horse.  

Rodney reeled backwards, skittering out of John's reach and pushing against the heavy canvas of the tent.  "I have to go," he stammered.  "The..kids.  I - -"

Rodney fled, leaving John standing alone, suddenly hit with the realisation that, until a moment ago, Rodney had no idea that he liked men.

Ronon was right.  He was an idiot.

"McKay's avoiding you.  What'd you do?"

It was only the knowledge that he would break his hand that stopped John from slugging Ronon.  He was not in the mood for this right now.

Ronon didn't seem to be going anywhere though so John sighed and patted the empty space next to him, the space that Rodney should be sitting in if he could even bear to look at John.

Ronon sat.

"He didn't know I liked guys," John said.

"He does now," Ronon stated.

John nodded.  "I think he figured it out."

"What you gonna do about it?"

John raised his fourth cup of moonshine in cheers.  "I'm gonna get drunk."

"He'll still know in the morning," Ronon pointed out.  "You figured out why it matters to him?"

John downed the rest of his cup in answer.  He stared moodily over the campfire, seeing Teyla and Rodney deep in conversation.  He should probably be grateful he got Ronon.  Teyla would expect more words.

Ronon let him finish his drink and poured him another.  "Fix this," he demanded.

John waved him off.  "I'll talk to Keras tomorrow, tell him that everything's ok."

Ronon slapped the cup from John's hand, spilling the drink on the ground and drawing, just for a second, the attention of Rodney.  

He couldn't look away fast enough.

"I wasn't talking about fixing it with Keras or his people.  I couldn't give a damn about the stupid lie you want them all to believe.  Fix things with Rodney .  After you've slept it off."  

Ronon pushed at John’s back until he was forced to stand and marched him to his tent, joking with any curious villagers that John couldn't handle his drink.

John collapsed onto the bed and tried very hard not to think about how empty it felt without Rodney.

The mattress shifting beneath him woke John an undetermined amount of time later.  His eyes felt gummy with sleep and his mouth tasted like something had died in it.  It took him longer than he cared to admit to realise that Rodney was lying awake next to him.

"Hnngh," he managed.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Rodney spoke quietly into the dark room.  

John didn't answer immediately.  He didn't have an answer, not one that made sense anyway.  He could say something about a lifetime of hiding, of a chosen profession that hated him and a father that didn't want him but...it all came down to cowardice.  He had never told Rodney because he'd never been brave enough to risk their friendship.  

He didn't say any of that.

"Would it have made a difference?" he eventually said.

Rodney didn't answer, instead turning to face the opposite wall, his back to John.

John couldn't blame him; it was a piss poor answer.  

He lay awake for a long time before sleep came.  Maybe the morning would bring some better answers with it.

Chapter Text

Rodney was in a foul mood and more than ready to dial up the Stargate to go home.  He wanted nothing more than to close himself in his quarters and play some Beethoven.   Loudly.  The way his mood was worsening with every passing second, Beethoven might not even cut it.  He needed something angry, something with brass and pomp and enough noise to drown out the constant loop of ‘ why didn’t he tell me? ’ that was running through his mind.

Teyla’s words from last night came to him again, gentle but accusing.  “ You did not share that part of yourself with him, either. ”

Rodney knew he was being hypocritical in his anger but, as he had snapped to Teyla (moments before apologising to her), anger isn’t a rational emotion.  Neither was hurt, or disappointment, or that small, horrible feeling that the reason John had never told him was because John didn’t care.

The possibility that John’s reasons were the same as his own, that John cared too much , seemed impossible to him.  As close as he had been to believing that there might be something only a day ago, the bitter hurt at finding out that John had kept this part of himself from him had all but killed that belief.

Rodney was very glad that Teyla had been the one to speak to him last night.  He’s not sure Ronon would have refrained from slapping him upside the head.

The general sense of bustle that surrounded him started to increase and Rodney hoped that meant the farewell feast would be starting soon.  The sooner it started, the sooner he could get home and wallow.

Wagner, he decided, would suit his mood.

The kids were giving him a wide berth, for once, as if they could sense his temperament.  They were bothering Ronon and Teyla instead, only occasionally casting a longing look in Rodney’s direction.  There was no sign of John, he had disappeared out the tent that morning, Rodney only aware of him leaving when the sudden loss of contact woke him.

It at least saved him the pain of waking up tangled in John like he usually did when they shared a bed space.  Rodney wasn’t sure if he could have handled that this morning.

Rodney grumbled into his cup of tea, wishing for coffee.  Coffee first, then Wagner.  At least he had a coping strategy.  Who knows what Colonel Masochist was getting up to.  Probably hitting himself with a braided rope in some ridiculous show of self-flagellation.  If he even cared at all.

A small body suddenly blocked his view of the preparations and Rodney groaned.  He should have known that Cleo wouldn’t be deterred by his mood.

“Go and bug someone else,” he muttered.

“Nuh-uh,” Cleo shook her head.  “Nobody else is as fun.”

“I’m not feeling very fun right now,” he said.  “Go and climb on Ronon, first one to reach his head gets a chocolate bar.”

Cleo sighed, sounding for all the world like Jeannie did when she was having to deal with his crap.  “I’m thirteen now, Dr. McKay, that would be inappropriate.  Besides, I volunteered to ask you what’s wrong.  I was the only one brave enough.”

“Oh, you were, were you?”  Rodney almost smiled at that.  God, she reminded him of Jeannie.  All blonde hair and sass.  Maybe it was time for him to pay Jeannie a visit.  Coffee, Wagner, and then Jeannie.  It was a good plan.

“What’s wrong with you and Colonel Sheppard?” she asked.  Straight to the point.  Rodney liked that.  Usually.

He was aware of every single eye in the small clearing seeming to zero in on him.  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said.  “It’s a grown up thing.  You wouldn’t understand.”

Cleo’s hands found their way to her hips.  “There’s lots of full growns here now, that won’t work.  We know something’s wrong and - - “

“Cleo, enough!  Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard have a right to their privacy.  They are our guests and you would do well to remember that.”

Keras.

Rodney felt a hot surge of anger rising in him and the next thing he was aware of was the sound of crunching bone and a throbbing ache in his hand as Keras’ nose flattened under his fist.  

“Jesus, McKay.  Leave him out of this.”  

John.

Rodney swore.  “Of course you choose now to show up,” he spat.  “Got to make sure your lover boy is all right.”

John’s face closed off, his jaw locking in frustration.  “I told you nothing happened,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

“Oh,” Rodney scoffed, “and what?  Am I supposed to take your word for it?  As if you’re an open book that never hides anything from me?  That’s a laugh.”

“Rodney, why don’t we talk about this somewhere a little more pri- -“

“Yes!” Rodney punctuated the word with a shove at John’s chest, breathing heavily.  With John’s confused look, all the fight went out of Rodney.   “You asked me last night if knowing would have made a difference.  My answer is yes .”

“Yes,” John repeated.

“ Yes.  Of course it would.  You know me, John.  You know that I need to have all the variables before I commit to something.  Who the hell do you think I am, Sam Carter?  Flying by the seat of my pants and hoping for the best, damn the safety protocols?  If I had known that you - - “  Rodney deflated.  “It would have made a difference .”

For the second time in two days, John dragged Rodney into their tent.

Rodney waited as John drew the heavy canvas of the tent flap closed behind them.

“What difference would it have made?  Tell me.”

The intensity in John’s eyes made Rodney falter, his words escaping him.  The realisation of the scene that he’d just made outside caught up with him too and he sunk into the mattress, burying his head in his hands.  Hissing with pain, he remembered that his hand hurt.

John crossed the space between them in a flash, settling on his knees in front of him as he inspected Rodney’s hand.

“It doesn’t feel broken,” John eventually decided.

Of course it isn’t broken,” Rodney bristled.  “You think that after seven years I don’t know how to punch someone?”

John’s mouth tilted up in a smirk and Rodney felt something ease inside him.  This was more like it.  This interplay felt easy, it felt right .

John sat back on his heels, his face turned serious.  “You never told me either, you know. “

Rodney nodded.  He knew.  “In my defence, you were military.”

“I could use the same defence.  Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, remember?  You have to know that I would never have reacted badly.  Tell me you know that.”

“Of course I know that,” Rodney snapped.  “Genius, remember?”

John chuckled.  “Not when it comes to people.”

“You’re not people .”

John looked absurdly pleased to be referred to as ‘not people’.  He smiled at Rodney, the lines in the corner of his eyes more pronounced than they had been when Rodney had first had the good fortune to meet John.  It was a good look on him.  “You’re not people to me either.”

As declarations of love go, it wasn’t bad.

“You know that you’re going to have to apologise to Keras, right?”

And the moment was gone.  Rodney stood up and threw his hands in the air.  “ Me?  What about him?  Hitting on a married man? “

“We’re not actually married, Rodney.”

“But he doesn’t know that! “

“Rodney.”

“Fine, fine.  In the interest of diplomatic relations, I’ll apologise to him.  But you have to make out with me in front of him before we leave.”

John laughed.  God, his laugh was ridiculous.  It never failed to make Rodney smile.  “We haven’t even kissed yet and you want to make out in public?”

“We’re doing this backwards, aren’t we?”

John smiled.  “Hey, I’m just glad we’re doing this at all.”  He paused.  “We are doing this, right?”

Rodney knelt down next to John and proceeded to show him just how much they were doing this.

A bitten off ‘eep’ broke them off before they had even gotten started.  Rodney groaned in John’s ear, a very different sort of groan than he had been making a moment before.

“ Cleo ,” he growled.

Cleo stepped into the tent, looking abashed.  “I was just making sure that you hadn’t killed each other,” she said.  “Keras’ nose is broken by the way.  Specialist Dex said to tell you ‘good job.’”

John snorted laughter, as he straightened up.

“It’s ok, Cleo.  We were about to head out anyway.”

Cleo gave John a look of such dubiety that Rodney was almost convinced she had some McKay blood in her.  He made a note to get Carson to test her DNA.  Maybe they shared an Ancient ancestor.

“It didn’t look like it to me,” she said.

Rodney’s eyes narrowed.  “Just how long have you been listening?”

Cleo smiled innocently.  “Long enough to know that you’re not married.”

John’s laughter dried up but Rodney wasn’t worried.  He and Cleo understood each other.  “How much chocolate is it going to take?”

Cleo smirked.  Huh, maybe she had a bit of Sheppard in her too.  “Ten bars.  A month.”

“Done,” Rodney agreed readily.  “You do know that you’ve undersold yourself there?”

“Rodney, shut up,” hissed John.

Cleo rolled her eyes.  “I know.  But I like you, so I’m letting you off easy.”

Rodney tossed her two bars from his stash which she caught readily.  

She grinned at them both and ripped open the wrapper.  “So,” she mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate, “what are you going to do next?”

Rodney knew exactly what he was going to do next.  He had a plan, after all, all it needed was a few adjustments.  “First I’m going to apologise to Keras, then we’re going to sit through this tedious farewell feast.”  Cleo stuck her tongue out at him.  “And then...I’m thinking home, coffee, and then maybe listen to some Debussy.”  John wrinkled his nose and Rodney sighed.  “Fine, Johnny Cash.”

“And then get married?” Cleo prompted.

John coughed and looked at Rodney.  “I was thinking we should probably just date first.  Think that’s a good idea?”

Rodney grinned.  “I do.”

Chapter Text

“You’re wearing that?”

Rodney tugged on his blue shirt, the one that he knew for a fact he looked good in and sighed.  He turned from his place in front of the dresser to glare at John.

“Yes, I’m wearing this.  And you’re wearing all black.  Again.  How novel.”

John shrugged.  “You like me in black.  I can change if you - -”

“Oh no, absolutely not. I know what you’re trying to do, Colonel.  I refuse to give her any extra ammunition against us by being late.”

John pouted.  Which should have looked ridiculous on a forty-something Air Force Colonel, but, somehow, didn’t.  “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to stay home and poke your eyes out with a stick instead?” John said, only half-teasing.  “You remember what she did the last time we visited her, right?”

“What?  Inadvertently got us to pull our heads out of our asses and admit that we loved each other?”

John frowned.  “We’re giving Harmony credit for that?  I thought we’d agreed that it was Keras?”

Rodney’s left eye twitched, the way it always did when Keras was mentioned.  It didn’t matter to him that Keras was now a happily married man himself, Rodney had sat through that particular ceremony with his hand firmly clamped around John’s wrist lest Keras get any ideas.  His only comfort that day had been realising that Keras’ nose hadn't quite healed straight (score one for Ronon's punching lessons).  Well, that, and the fact that Keras seemed to be stupidly in love with his husband.  One less person to fight for John’s affections was always welcome.

Ignoring the mention of the wannabe homewrecker, Rodney huffed.  “Think about it.  If Harmony hadn’t announced her betrothal to me, you wouldn’t have come up with the ridiculous idea to pretend that I was already married to you - “

“Hey,” John interjected. “That was an awesome idea.  Besides, you were the one that told her you were already married. I was following your lead.”

“- and then we wouldn’t have had to visit Cleo’s planet and keep up the ruse,” Rodney continued, ignoring John’s interruption.  “Keras wouldn’t have hit on you, I wouldn’t have found out you liked men, and we wouldn’t have got together.”

“Huh, I hadn’t really thought about it like that.  Feels weird, having something to thank Harmony for.”

Rodney shrugged into his jacket and picked up the wrapped thank you present that Woolsey had insisted they take.  “It’s been two years,” he said.  “There’s a world of difference between sixteen and eighteen.  Maybe she’s changed.”

Harmony had not changed.

“Dr. McKay,” Harmony greeted him warmly as they stepped through the Stargate before turning to John.  “And you brought your Colonel, I see.  How...nice that you're still together.”

John smiled at her, flashing his teeth and Rodney wondered just how mad Woolsey would be if John managed to ‘accidentally’ spill a cup of punch over the Queen’s head or managed to enact whatever other planned diplomatic incident that smile was hiding.

“We were most, ah, surprised to receive your invite,” Rodney said, diverting attention from John.

Harmony smiled meanly at them both.  “It has been some time since you were welcomed in my court,” she admitted, “but I am older now and wiser for it.  It is time to put that unpleasantness in our past.”

She turned abruptly, her skirts swirling behind her and led them to the throne room.  Not given any other choice, John and Rodney followed.

The throne room looked the same as it always had, rich and opulent and ugly when compared to Atlantis.  Rodney was too busy looking for any trays of the little pies that he loved to notice the one glaring change at first.  It was John’s donkey bray of a laugh that alerted him to it.

“Do you like it?” Harmony asked sweetly.  “The changes were made ahead of my engagement feast tomorrow.  I wanted you both to be the first to see it.”

The painting.  The ridiculous oil painting that had unknowingly caused this whole thing still had pride of place in the room.  Albeit, with a few, minor, changes.

John was still there, crouching behind Harmony (a much older and more womanly looking Harmony) but now he had been joined by Rodney who was also cowering in fear.  (The painted Rodney had much thinner hair and a much larger paunch than Rodney really felt was necessary but that was beside the point.)  Rodney’s previous position in the painting had been replaced by that of a tall, slender boy of around twenty who looked like he would be more at a home in a kitchen than firing a P-90.  Harmony’s fiance, he presumed.  

It was awful.  It was an affront to art.  It was...Rodney’s eyes caught on the twin gold bands on the painted John and Rodney’s fingers.

He smiled warmly at Harmony, noting the flash of surprise and disappointment on her face as he did.  “It’s a truly inspired likeness,” he said.  “I love it.”

Harmony got rid of them quickly after that, her plan to humiliate them having failed had put her in a foul mood.

Pausing before they walked home through the ‘gate, John turned to him.  “You know that there are going to be pictures of that painting all over Atlantis within a week, right?”  

Rodney brought John’s hand up to his lips and kissed the gold band that he’d placed on John’s finger in front of their family only a few months ago.

“I don’t care.”